


Husbandly Duties

by GoodJanet



Category: Thin Man (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Dirty Talk, Double Entendre, F/M, Laughter During Sex, Love, Seduction, Sweet, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Nora's honeymoon never really ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Husbandly Duties

“My darling, don’t you know what they say about a man scorned?” Nick takes a long swallow of his drink while Nora patiently waits for him to incorrectly quote Shakespeare at her. 

“What do they say, dear?”

He drops his glass to his nightstand with a clink. “They say that hangovers hath no fury like a man scorned.”

Nora laughs in spite of herself and lets her robe fall where it may. She walks over to his bed and leans in for a quick kiss, hands gently petting his hair.

“I can never tell if you’re asking me for a drink or for something else.” 

She ever so gently pushes her chest forward. He grins up at her, though she can only see half of his face. The other side is buried in shadow and his pillow. Nick pulls her down towards him.

“Why can’t it be both, my pet? I’d love to drink you up with a drink in my hand!”

Nora rolls her eyes. “I guess next you’ll want to pour champagne on me as though I _were_ your glass.”

He kisses her hard before she can say anything else. She was downright radiant in her barely there nighty and even more so with her incredible wit. Nick can hardly bear the thought of those luscious gold bubbles running in rivulets all over her milky skin. Now, even his very loose sleep pants felt quite constricting.

Nick flips her until he is hovering over her, which earns him a satisfied, scandalized shout of surprise. Nora’s curly hair fluffs over and over itself in brunette waves across his pillow, and he thinks she looks good enough to eat.

“Have we got any champagne in the ice box?”

“Oh, please. You know the answer to that.”

Nick drops his head low and gripes in frustration. When he picks his head up, Nora is smiling at him with that devilish smile of hers. The one that wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes like she knows a dirty secret about him that he doesn’t even know about himself. He rests more of his weight on her to kiss her good and proper.

“Must you torment me with talk like that?”

Nora runs her nails gently through his hair, and he moans softly.

“I hate it when you’re cross with me, Nickie.”

Her playful tone belies her words. Nick doesn’t think he could be truly cross with her if his life depended on it.

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, darling,” he says, letting his hips settle against hers.

Her eyes widen slightly at the contact, and he’s instantly flattered. It did wonders for the ego to know that after all these years, he was able to still excite her as if it were their first time over and over again.

Nora’s hand comes off his shoulder, and her fingertips trail across his face from ear to jaw to lip until the point of her index finger drags his lower lip down, leaving him transfixed all the while. He swallows hard.

“How am I to make it up to you if you’re wearing all those clothes?” she whispers conspiratorially.

It spurs him into action, and soon he’s tossing off his robe and pants and shirt like a tornado of laundry. Nora laughs in spite of herself. The sultry heat from just moments ago is replaced by a heady gaiety that only her husband’s antics and love for her could kindle. Once suitably disrobed, he pounces upon her again.

“Oh, Nickie, what _am_ I going to do with you?”

“Anything you like, Mrs. Charles. Those wedding bells of ours have long since stopped pealing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy the honeymoon.”

“Well, Mr. Charles, I’d say it’s time to perform your husbandly duties.”

Nora’s legs fall open, and he finds himself resting comfortably in the cradle of her welcoming thighs and open arms. He finds he must recite old case files in his head upon finally entering her if he ever had a hope of satisfying his deserving wife.

“The knife was in Mrs. Bland’s hand. Not the farmer’s wife. The sister-in-law. Michaels had the gun, and then he—and then he—”

“I do so love it when you whisper sweet nothings in my ear,” Nora interrupts.

“It’s only because I’m crazy about you, kid.”

He leans down to kiss her perfect, upturned nose. Nora smiles. Nick shakes his head. How could he have been unaware that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud? Sufficiently admonished by his wife’s I’ve-still-got-it-grin, he is sure to pay better attention during the rest of their proceedings.

“You know,” he says in the aftermath. She turns her head to look at him, rapt with attention. 

“What is it, Nickie?” she prompts, already guessing what he was going to say.

“We ought to keep a drink cart in here.”

“Oh!” Nora grumbles, tossing her pillow at his face. Nick laughs loudly. “You big dope!”

“I’m merely teasing you, my sweet.” He drags himself over to her. “I was going to say that I love you.”

She pouts before relenting. “I love you too.”

“But what about that drink cart idea?”

“Nickie!”


End file.
